Marina
by iheartsergeantsmith
Summary: Jack/Ronnie. Little inspiration from a book I adore. Imagine James didn't die, and they have a daughter too. Rated T for sensitive issues covered. X
1. Chapter 1

**So imagine that James didn't die, and that Ronnie and Jack also have a daughter, born a few years after James. We'll call her Chloe. Hopefully if I do this right it'll be a bit emotional, but we'll see. Little inspiration from a book I adore. (Originally posted on the R&J site but I think this is some of my most serious writing so was hoping for some constructive critisism :)**

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><p><strong>Preface<strong>

Jack pressed his lips to his wife's head and slipped his arms around her slim waistline, rocking the pair gently side to side as they looked over the cot containing their sleeping baby. Both of them were simply taking in the calm quiet and realising for the thousandth time just how lucky they were; a perfect family: mummy, a daddy, a little boy and an even littler girl.

Ronnie closed her eyes and smiled. She had everything she had ever wanted; a husband who would love her and protect her and her children, a son who was a perfect copy of his father, and a daughter who despite being a new born baby was showing all the signs of growing up with the same blonde waves and ice blue eyes that she herself possessed.

It was a quiet evening between the two as they settled down on the sofa in the living room; the woman leaning forward to clear her little boy's blocks of Lego from the floor to the coffee table, leaving no room for accident. Leaning back into the soft confines of the fabric sofa cushions, Ronnie lifted her wine glass from the coffee table and brought it to her lips, kissing the edge of the glass as the cool liquid ran down her throat.

"How you feeling?" Jack murmured, his left hand distractedly running through her long hair whilst he cocked his head to get a better look at his wife. Despite looking exhausted and a little lack-lustre, her eyes sparkled softly, gentle humour and happiness reflecting from them.

"All the better for this," she raised her glass with a tired smile and placed it back on the little table, her eyes flickering back to the man who held her.

She was tired, god she was tired, but with little complication, they had added the finishing touch to their perfect family the previous evening: Chloe. She had been the baby girl Ronnie had craved for, and the small but perfectly formed princess that Jack would undoubtedly spoil forever more.

"Thank you," a whisper sparked through the air and hit Jack's ears, making him turn his head and narrow his eyes slightly, not understanding why his wife was the one uttering that sentiment, when she'd done something so incredible as to give him another child. Ronnie caught the look of confusion in his face and smiled slightly,

"What? I couldn't have done it without you, could I?"

"S'pose not…" a slow smile spread across Jack's lips, "Takes two to tango and all that,"

"And our tango _is _the best." The words were uttered simply, with a twinkle shimmering in the eye of the speaker, her blue orbs catching the sultry light coming from the table lamp to her side and glistening with honesty and anticipation for the hours, days, weeks, months and years that would follow.


	2. Chapter 2

Hope this is okay :) Thanks to you three lovelies for reviewing the first chapter

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><p><span>"Darkness, you know, is relative."<span>

It was six o'clock, and Jack was getting ready for work, leaving Ronnie to bath the children and get them to bed. She was knelt over the side of the bathtub, rubbing bubbles into her two-year-old daughter's tummy and arms, listening to the loud giggle escaping her rosebud lips as she splashed the water with her flat palms.

"Chloeee!" James screeched as the water went in his face, "Stop it," he whined, bubbles all over his hair and cheeks.

Ronnie chuckled and wiped her hands down her son's face, getting rid of the bubbles and then tapping him affectionately on the tip of his nose. "Stop moaning mister."

A few minutes later she lifted her daughter out of the bath and stood her on the bathmat, taking a soft towel and beginning to rub her dry. As she turned her baby round to dry her back, Ronnie frowned.

"Did you fall over sweetie?"

"Hum?" Chloe tried to turn around to look at her mummy, but Ronnie held her still. She pressed her hand flat to her child's back, to the side of the bruise that sat half way down her tiny back and frowned at it. The bruise was a flower shape, about two centimetres square, and resembled a four leaved clover.

"Does that mean she's lucky?" James' voice filtered into Ronnie's thoughts and she didn't turn her head, she kept inspecting Chloe's back.

She ignored James' question and turned Chloe round to look at her. "Does it hurt when I touch it sweetie?"

Chloe shook her head and wrinkled her nose, "No mummy." She pulled her towel gown over her head and put up the hood, toddling out of the bathroom and into her sunny, yellow bedroom. Ronnie shrugged, shaking her head, and helped her son out of the bath.

Jack popped his head round James' bedroom door later on and touched his wife gently on the shoulder, "I'll see you later babe, I'll back around midnight." Ronnie got up from where she'd been perched on the side of her son's bed and ran her hands smoothly up her husband's strong arms, interlinking her fingers behind his neck. She kissed his lips softly and brushed her thumb across them afterwards affectionately.

"Love you," she uttered into the hallway as they left James' bedroom, leaving it just ajar because he insisted he was too old for a night-light, even though he wasn't fond of the dark.

When she had bid her husband a good evening at work, Ronnie took a seat on the sofa in the living room and dimmed the lights by clapping a tired pair of hands once. She leant forward, one hand to her head, her elbow resting on her knee.

'_Does that mean she's lucky?' The words resounded around her head and echoed slowly, making her mull over every word separately. Lucky? She, Ronnie, had never been 'lucky' in her life, not until she married Jack. She'd married him, had a gorgeous son and a beautiful daughter, and her lifestyle was near enough perfect. She couldn't complain. So why did she have such a heavy feeling in her stomach? _

_Her heavy eyelids slid open and she looked up at the photographs that adorned the cream walls: Her little boy with spiked-up hair, just like his daddy, holding his sister's hand and toddling through the woods with her. A grinning Jack had taken the photograph by pure accident; he'd originally meant to take a picture of the woman that sat in front of him on the picnic blanket, but he'd lifted his hand and pressed the button just as she had knocked the camera with her hand, determined not to have her picture taken. This had resulted in a wonky, but very clear, sweet image of their children running hand-in-hand. _

_The next picture was on the white bookshelf; in a square, silver frame, in pride of place. It was their wedding day; Ronnie laughing along with Jack, she wore a gorgeous white gown and veil and he wore the sexiest suit she'd ever seen him in. _

_She smiled. The bad times, she reflected, had been few and far between._


End file.
